


Still and Disarm

by Neverland_lostgirl



Series: You take my heart and make it even [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 20:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2124126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neverland_lostgirl/pseuds/Neverland_lostgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know you two are going to have to speak at some point, right?”</p><p>Harry lifts his head from the table to peer across at Liam, the older boy staring with a furrowed brow and a worried gaze. He sighs. Harry supposed that after a week of no contact with his husband he is pushing it. Besides, the supply of clean clothes Liam had collected the day following their fight was running quite low.</p><p>“I know.” And he does, the only real problem is that he is slightly afraid to confront Niall. They hadn’t spoken since the incident, despite the numerous text messages and voicemails his husband had left.</p><p>Liam sighs. “Louis called me yesterday, said when he went to check up on Niall he found the house is quite a mess…”</p><p>Or where Harry needs to decide between staying and leaving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still and Disarm

“You know you two are going to have to speak at some point, right?”

Harry lifts his head from the table to peer across at Liam, the older boy staring with a furrowed brow and a worried gaze. He sighs. Harry supposed that after a week of no contact with his husband he is pushing it. Besides, the supply of clean clothes Liam had collected the day following their fight was running quite low.

“I know.” And he does, the only real problem is that he is slightly afraid to confront Niall. They hadn’t spoken since the incident, despite the numerous text messages and voicemails his husband had left.

Liam sighs. “Louis called me yesterday, said when he went to check up on Niall he found the house is quite a mess…”

“Am I supposed to feel bad?” Harry snaps. Niall had cheated on him. Being married was supposed to ensure that never happened. Hell, they’d promised each other in their vows it would never happen. He is not going to feel bad for Niall’s suffering. But as he watches Liam, he can sense a topic change is in order; he feels a small puddle of worry from within. Being married and having dated for several years beforehand, Harry knows no matter how much Niall loves his football and beer, however, he is also notorious for keeping the house clean. The idea of an unclean house, of Niall not making sure the dishes are washed, put away and the tables tidy is odd and slightly unnerving.

Harry gives a heavy sigh, interrupting Liam before he can speak and nods, “I’ll go over after work tomorrow.”

\--

Four o’clock. He stares at the clock, fingers taping against his desk as his leg shakes. Only one more hour until he can leave and take the train ride, but the final destination is still undecided. He knows he promised Liam to go visit Niall but the idea of coming face to face with the man who cheated sends a rush of nerves through his system.

He had gone down to lunch with the rest of his co-workers bad but the idea of eating had not agreed with him and instead of consuming his salad like usual, he’d simply pushed the lettuce around while staring at the clock on his phone.

Four o’clock.

55 minutes…

Harry sighs and with another glance at his desk, he knows he will not be getting anymore work done today.

54 minutes.

He can do this. Harry nods. After work, he will head back to his house to speak with Niall.

\--

The house is a mess.

A disaster is more like it. Harry glances around at the empty fast food containers scattering the floor and the dirty dishes piled in the sink. The TV is blaring an old Derby match Niall must have recorded but is nowhere in sight. Slowly, he makes his way through the living room and up the stairs, eyes sweeping over the house until they land on their bedroom door. He can hear the faint melody of music and as he pushes open the door, the song becomes clearer. It was the song they chose for their first dance.

The music is dialed down and Harry feels an ache in his chest when he realizes that Niall is passed out on their bed, covers pulled up to his chin and eyes red-rimmed. His husband‘s features are soft and relaxed but it leaves Harry wondering how much sleep Niall has gotten over the past week.

He decides to leave Niall as he sleeps and trudges downstairs, starting at once to clean up the house. Harry picks up the garbage and throws it in the trash, washes the dishes and after drying them, he places them in their correct spot.

It’s just as he is finishing up cleaning the counter that he hears feet making their way down the stairs. A part of him flares up with nerves and he can tell, or rather hears the instant Niall realizes he’s there. There’s a shuddering intake of breath then a soft whisper, “Harry?”

The sound of his husband’s voice pulls Harry back a week, to the same choked voice telling him he’d been cheated on. Anger simmers and he has to shake his head to clear it away. Harry isn’t here to fight, or at least, he doesn’t want to.

“What are ya doin’ here?” Niall questions. Harry turns and stops. Seeing Niall awake and standing allows Harry the chance to really see just how well Niall has been coping and staring at him, he can see it wasn’t well. There are dark circles under the blonde’s eyes-ones Harry knows he also has, however not as bad- and his hair which is flopping down across his forehead instead of his usual style. Niall is dressed in baggy clothing that look days old.

“I was running out of clean clothing. “ Harry responds. Apparently that wasn’t the answer Niall was looking for because his shoulders drop and nods. “I…uh…also came to talk.”

There it is. Harry knows there is no turning back now. He can almost feel the tension slowly seep into the room as they stare at each other. Niall blinks then gives a slow nod. “Alright, we can, uh, sit in the livin’ room in ya want?”

“Sure.” It’s too awkward. Harry hates it. Hates that this is what has become of their relationship. Just last week they were all smiles. Things can change so quickly. Following Niall, he takes a spot on the single chair.

Silence.

“So…uh,” Niall clears his throat, “what did ya want to talk ‘bout?”

“Niall.”

“Harry-”

“Why did you do it?” Harry demands. That’s all he wants to know. It’s the one question which has kept him up at night. “I thought we were okay.”

Niall curl his fingers into his hair, lips pursed together but Harry says nothing. Just watches. It takes several long, seconds before Niall nods. “We had gotten into that fight; the bad one a month ago about money and all that…I know we’d both said some pretty harsh things but I’d needed to go cool down…”

“You went out, said you were going for a walk,” Harry remembers. He can recall the fight clearly as it had been one of their worst. Money had always been an issue for them as Niall hated borrowing money from anyone and if they were married, Harry was no exception. Niall’s final tuition payment had been due and with student loans piling up, the fight to stay ahead and pay everything on time was difficult. Harry had offered to help, he knew his parents wouldn’t mind letting him dip into his trust fund to help his husband but Niall wouldn’t have it,kept saying no and that he needed to do it for himself.

Things had escalated from there. One minute it was about Niall refusing money then it was Niall calling Harry pushy and overbearing, both Niall later urged were not true, to Harry stating that if maybe Niall had picked a better major he might have found a better job than simply teaching music lessons at the local store he might make more money. Words, both had regretted later on, were spoken and in the end Niall had left. He’d walked out the door but had come back 3 hours later, a bit drunk but seemingly sober enough to apologize.

“You said you’d gone to a pub, had a drink just to think.”

“I did….Fuck, Haz, I fucked up,” Niall whispers. “There was a guy, a bit older than meself, and he kept urging me to talk about everything and I did, because it felt good to open up to someone that wasn’t connected in some way to us and I kept drinking, a few pints turned into four, maybe five, and when I went to go for a wee…he followed me.”

Harry swallows, hands gripping onto his legs as he stares at Niall, stares because he knows what is next; knows that his husband fucked someone else.

“Are you sure you want to he-”

“Keep going!”

“….we kissed for a bit and then…, he…uh…he gave me a blowjob. I was so drunk and I was pissed but fuck, the minute I realized what was happening I shoved him off. He was angry but once I’d managed to get away I just walked, kept walking until I felt sober enough to come home.”

Niall was curling into himself, tears making their way down his cheeks and no matter what he’d just been told, Harry felt himself ache to embrace his husband but he wouldn’t - couldn’t.  He was angry. “You cheated on me, Niall. Bloody Hell, you waited a month to tell me. You came home every night, slept in our bed for a whole month before telling me.” There was something hollowing in thinking of Niall, tucked under their covers, sleeping soundly with the knowledge of the his infidelity. The thought makes Harry almost ill and the memories they made together in that bed seem tainted now, tainted by a man in a pub loo with a indiscernible face.

“I know. I’m so sorry Harry.  So fucking sorry.”

\--

An hour later and Harry finds himself in their bedroom, eyes sweeping over the photos and all the knick knacks that make up their life. He can still hear Niall sniffling downstairs but he stays put. He has two choices; he can stay or he can leave.

The glances at the large photo framed on their dresser, the smiles adorning both their faces resembling their mood; their wedding day photo. Harry knows that if he leaves he will never find someone like Niall. He could find someone but each day he’d only look for parts of Niall in the other man; an Irish accent that gets thicker with sleep; his infectious laugh; his blue eyes that can pierce straight through his heart; that familiar press of soft lips and the steady thump of his familiar heartbeat.

Harry looks down at his clasped hands, watches as his fingers sweep over the gold ring and with a heavy sigh, he pushes off their bed and heads for the stairs.

He knows what he needs to do.

 


End file.
